No, wait — “hate” doesn’t do it justice, so let me rephrase the question with more precise verbiage: why do people erupt with a sociopathic blood lust at the mere mention of the Alberta band who has ridden a wave of post-grunge glory to the tune of almost 50 million albums?

It can’t be just that their music is bad, because if that were the criteria, every American Idol alumnus, teen pop titan and electrotrash prom queen would be under 24-hour armed guard.

It can’t be just that they’re Canadian, or Neil Young, Leonard Cohen and Celine Dion would have checked into the witness-protection program long ago.

And it can’t be just because lead singer Chad Kroeger is an obnoxious twit with a bad haircut who panders to his audience, or every rock star from Gene Simmons to David Lee Roth would be the target of venomous online petitions.

Nope, when it comes to the second biggest foreign rock act in U.S. history — and the hysterical outrage they inspire — there are more complicated factors at play.

Chief among them, from a media perspective, is a turf war between derivative rock acts, like Nickelback, who ride the coattails of their Nirvana-styled predecessors, and indie-minded loyalists who revel in authenticity, celebrate their roots and defiantly snub their noses at fame even when, ahem, they’re famous.

“Rock and roll is dying because people became OK with Nickelback being the biggest band in the world,’’ grouses Patrick Carney of the Black Keys, whose retro blend of punk, rock and soul enjoys a privileged cache with critics.

“Rock and roll is the music I feel the most passionately about, and I don’t like to see it (bleep)in’ ruined and spoon-fed down our throats in this watered down, post-grunge c---, horrendous ----!’’

Gee whiz, Pat. Take a Valium.

I’m not a Nickelback fan — they’re exactly the kind of bombastic corporate monolith I would have hated back when I could muster up the energy to care about such things — but his response is tediously predictable, fuelled by what seems like jealousy, sour grapes and an inferiority complex that started, I’m guessing, when guys like Kroeger kicked his butt in high school.

And yes, he’s in good company, part of a vast contingent of cheesed off malcontents who concoct (unsuccessful) petitions to replace Nickelback at NFL halftime shows, invent anti-Nickelback web browsers (Nickelblock) and do a lot of hysterical ranting about how Kroeger and company have killed the spirit of rock with their watered-down, strangulated-goat caterwauling.

While they’re doing this, of course, Nickelback releases another album, or launches another tour, and quietly chalks up another $50 billion in profits. Who’s laughing now?

“Making Nickelback jokes makes you the Nickelback of people,” points out Boston writer Luke O’Neil with appropriate sarcasm. “Where do I sign the protest against you?”

What fascinates me about Nickelback isn’t the fact that indie hipsters dislike them — music snobbery is nothing new, and mass popularity has long been the critical kiss of death — but the ferocity of their hatred, the overriding desire to grab Kroeger by the throat and slam him against a wall.

What the Nickelbacklash reminds me of is the “disco sucks” movement of the ’70s, which — in an equally visceral way — saw the demonizing of an entire musical sub-genre with a riotous fervour that bordered on evangelistic.

Thirty years later, ironically, the tables have turned, and it’s the workmanlike, meat-and-potatoes rock dudes who find themselves in the cultural crosshairs, while the indie rock purists who dominate music discourse adjust their pocket protectors and froth rabidly from the sidelines.

“One of the problems with becoming ultra-successful, rolling the ball right up the middle for a strike,” writes music blogger Bob Lefsetz, “is that the naysayers take over public opinion, the hipsters that control the media, and you don’t get your due.’’

Not that Nickelback deserve accolades for tedious songs about strippers, drugs and oral sex. I mean, it’s not as if they’re revolutionizing the hard-rock canon.

But since when has innovation been the criteria for pop stardom?

“Obviously, there isn’t a person in the world that would say, ‘You know, Nickelback is so trendy!’ ’’ Kroeger, the Teflon man, told media. “And we’re not. We don’t care. We really just don’t care.’’

Money talks, and when you’re selling out arenas and raking in millions — and Nickelback was named the bestselling rock band of the past decade — you can afford to laugh.

“Thanks to the drummer of the Black Keys calling us the Biggest Band in the World in Rolling Stone,’’ tweeted Kroeger and company after the Keys’ expletive-laden rant. “Hehe.”

At this point — and I say this only because I’m afraid they might go completely off the deep end — the Black Keys should probably just shut up.